


Bury Them Bones (Right Up Against Mine)

by geckocest (Pye)



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: Facials, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Series, Sibling Incest, Thumb-sucking, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 05:34:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pye/pseuds/geckocest
Summary: Old habits die hard.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm lowkey embarrassed that I wrote this so I've been sitting on it for like 3 months but the world needs more geckocest so... here you go. I would like to dedicate this to Utsav for being the best ever to cry about FDTD with and for reading all my lame-o fics and generally being amazing. <3
> 
> FYI Nothing sexual happens until they're sixteen.

\--

 

Seth's lips are pressed to the plaster of his cast, scratchy, rough, and unpleasant.

 

He's huddled against Richie and Dad is screaming at Uncle Charlie in the hallway outside and Seth would just melt away if he could, fold himself up inside his brother where it’s safe and warm and nothing can get him.

 

Uncle Charlie’s baritone is dominating the conversation, angry in a way he’s never been around them before. He’s usually soft spoken, the complete counterpoint to Dad’s bluster. 

 

Seth had liked Uncle Charlie ‘til last year, when he’d started ignoring Richie entirely and only giving candy and presents to Seth, staring with faraway eyes in Seth’s direction whenever Dad wasn’t around. These days Richie says Uncle Charlie is a bad man, just like Dad, and Seth believes him.

 

The buzz of voices moves away and they must have retreated to the kitchen, too far away to be heard clearly even through the thin walls.

 

It goes quiet for a second, long enough for Seth to think that maybe it’s over, that Dad’s sent Uncle Charlie away. But then there's a screeching crash and Seth feels panic well up in his chest, red hot and terrifying. He bites at his cast, searching for his thumb instinctively but it’s not there, it’s  _ not there _ , because Dad broke his fingers last week and now his whole hand is covered in a mess of gauze and plaster.

 

A whimper escapes him and Richie tenses. “Shhh,” he hisses, and Seth nods mutely up at him through the tears blurring his vision. Richie’s gaze softens as he looks at him and brings one hand up from Seth’s back to the nape of Seth’s neck instead, petting the damp mess of curls.

 

"You think Dad's gonna hurt him?" Seth asks in a whisper. He’s not sure that he wants to know the answer, mainly just wants the distraction of Richie’s voice.

 

"I hope he does," Richie replies acidly, with no hesitation.

 

"No you don't," Seth says in disbelief, forgetting to be quiet in his surprise at the venom in Richie’s voice, so unlike his gentle brother.

 

Richie doesn’t answer, eyes going dark with something that makes Seth clutch a little tighter around Richie’s middle, fighting the rush of fear constricting his throat as the argument outside rises to a fever pitch.

 

He presses his tongue to the empty roof of his mouth and tries to keep quiet, but his eyes are burning, a sob sneaking out as he starts to tremble against Richie.

 

Richie stares down at him through thick glasses, heart thumping rabbit quick in his ribcage under Seth's head.

 

“Shit,” he says, and Seth doesn't have the time to process that Richie just said a  _ swear _ before a thumb is pushing past his lips and onto his tongue.

 

It’s not like Seth’s own thumb. Richie’s tastes different,  _ better _ , somehow sweet salty and bland at the same time, all mixed up with that clean laundry Richie smell he’s known for as long as he can remember.

 

The tide of panic recedes almost immediately, tears wetting his cheeks but none following them, the knot of emotion smoothing into something just shy of calm.

 

All of a sudden, they hear the screen door creak open and shut with a bang, and it’s over as quickly as it began.

 

Dad is swearing and Seth hears glass shatter in the kitchen, stomping footsteps coming down the hall. He shrinks against Richie, licks at his thumb and curls up like he could disappear into Richie if he just tries hard enough.

 

The footsteps pause outside their room, squeaky board giving away how Dad shifts his weight as he deliberates. Eventually the board creaks again and the footsteps recede, and Seth realizes Richie’s shaking so hard that Seth can barely keep a hold on his thumb.

 

\--

 

It becomes a habit, like brushing their teeth before bed or showering in the morning. Seth will end up in Richie’s bed each night, huddled close, because he’s started to have nightmares when he sleeps alone - and Richie will offer up his thumb and press his nose to Seth’s neck, and they’ll fall asleep just like that.

 

It makes it easy to let it bleed into other daily routines, like watching TV while Dad’s away on business, or while Richie’s quizzing Seth for a test they have the next day. So after such a long time of it being normal, it’s no surprise that the first time and last time they do it in a place where someone could see them, they don’t even think about it.

 

They’re sitting on Uncle Eddie’s couch, close to four years after the fire, watching Bugs Bunny on an old tube tv and basking in the late morning sun. Seth's head is in Richie’s lap and Richie’s thumb is resting against Seth's cheek, stroking over the soft skin there, back and forth, edging closer until it comes to rest on Seth's lower lip.

 

Absently, Seth opens his mouth and lets Richie's thumb in, licks up to taste the familiar salty skin, run his tongue over the blunt edge of his nail. The rest of Richie's fingers are fanned out over Seth’s face and they both sigh like a weight's been lifted away when Seth starts to suck lightly, cartoons fading into the background noise of the morning.

 

Neither of them register the footsteps approaching from down the hallway, nor the grumbling and cursing that always follows when Eddie's awake earlier than he wants to be.

 

"What on earth are you two doing?" Eddie asks, not unkindly. He steps in front of the window and blocks out the sun, shrouding them in shadows.

 

Seth freezes and Richie pulls his thumb away, wiping it on his shirt before he shrugs.

 

"Nothing," Richie replies evenly, eyes gone steely cold, curiously intimidating for a boy who's barely eleven. Seth shivers without meaning to and Richie's fingers come to rest in Seth's hair, gently pushing it back over his forehead and combing through the tangles.

 

Seth just fixates on the little dark patch on Richie's side, watches the spit dry slowly on faded red cotton.

 

"Don't look like nothing," Eddie says, eyebrow raised with a sharpness to his voice that wasn’t there before.

 

Richie doesn’t reply, just stares until Eddie sighs and sits down in his creaky old armchair across from them, arms crossed over his chest.

 

"I know you didn't-" He scrubs a hand over his face and tries again. "Ray wasn’t a very good man, and Lord knows he wasn’t a good father to you neither."

 

His gaze flicks over to where Seth’s arm is hanging off the couch, no doubt looking at the fingers Dad broke that never quite healed straight. Seth closes his hand into a fist.

 

"But that ain't normal for two boys your age," he continues, leaning forward like he’s imparting the meaning of life to both of them. "So I don’t wanna catch you doing that again, we clear?"

 

"Yes sir," Seth says softly, speaking for both of them before Richie can retort and actually piss Eddie off.

 

Eddie gives them one last stern look and stands up, gait slow and tired as he retreats to the kitchen to start on breakfast.

 

Eddie’s a wiry man, a little older, with more edges and angles than Dad ever had, but Seth likes to think that he’s got a gentler soul deep inside. Seth likes Eddie, always liked him a whole lot every time he’d come to visit. He would always bring them a new toy and a bag of candy for Richie, and keep Dad busy for a night talking business or whatever it was that they did together.

 

Seth doesn’t want to disappoint Eddie, not now that he’s taken them in and given them a home that’s safe and warm. Seth wants to be good.

 

Seth doesn’t do it again.

 

\--

 

Seth snaps out of his reverie with the sudden slam of the front door and scrape of boots on the mat. He drops the spoon he’s been sucking on like it's red hot, and it falls into his empty bowl with a loud clatter. He can still taste the spit-warm metal on his tongue, missing its weight already.

 

He shifts his gaze to Richie, seated across the table from him with a textbook and some pencils spread out on the placemat, and his brother’s eyes flit away quickly, cheeks pink.

 

“Happy birthday, Seth,” Eddie booms from the doorway, a grease stained box tied with twine held precariously under one arm, and a small drawstring bag in the other.

 

Seth grins as Eddie deposits the box on the kitchen table, and presents the little bag to Seth. Seth turns it over in his hands, feels the soft fabric. When he opens it, keys fall into his palm with a tiny jangle and he looks up at Eddie with wide, surprised eyes.

 

“The truck?” Seth breathes, even though he already knows. Even if it didn’t have that stupid cowboy lizard keyring attached, he’d know the feeling of those keys by heart.

 

Eddie nods, and the crows feet at the corners of his eyes deepen as he smiles. “Sixteen’s a good age for your first car.”

 

“Thank you,” Seth whispers. The truck’s not perfect, it’s old and creaky and doesn’t go as fast as it used to, but it’s independence and the open road and Seth’s so grateful that he’s overwhelmed with it, emotion heavy in his chest.

 

Eddie pats his shoulder with a bony hand and goes to snap the ribbon off the box on the table with his pocket knife.

 

“Chocolate brownie’s your favourite, right?” Eddie asks, showing off the slightly squashed cake with the candle sunk too deep in the middle, probably crushed by something else in the car.

 

It’s not, chocolate brownie is Richie’s favourite and Seth prefers vanilla with chocolate icing, but he nods enthusiastically anyway and grabs the biggest piece in the box.

 

\--

 

Seth’s had a fake license ever since he tripped past the halfway point of fourteen and Eddie decided at least one of his boys should know how to drive, but Seth never had much opportunity to do it before Eddie gave him the truck last October.

 

These days, he drives everywhere, mapping the backroads and farmland surrounding the town on hot summer days with the windows rolled down, Richie riding shotgun beside him, going somewhere just because they can.

 

Today it’s Richie’s sixteenth birthday, and there’s a cooler with a six pack they’ve been saving for months, and a sagging old mattress laid out in the bed of the truck. They’re parked just past the edge of town, on a beat up side road that pulls off into a lookout with trees lining one side and the distant lights of the city on the other.

 

The mattress springs creak as Seth tosses a leftover fry to the crow that's been waiting patiently for scraps a few metres away from them, feeling Richie's disapproving glare against his back.

 

Seth tosses another fry and turns around to stick his tongue out.

 

"Stop that, you’re going to get it used to people," Richie grumbles, making a halfhearted grab for the fries and purposefully elbowing Seth in the side as he does it.

 

"Shut up, Richard," Seth chuckles, resisting the temptation to ruffle his brother's hair just to irritate him further as he bristles and makes another grab for the fries. Seth jerks out of his reach again and Richie topples off the mattress against side of the truck, causing a loud, resonating bang that spooks the crow. It squawks and takes flight with the hush of flapping wings, heading in the direction of the road.

 

Seth pops a mint in his mouth and heaves a long suffering sigh. "That wasn't nice."

 

“The wildlife isn’t supposed to eat McDonald’s,” Richie shoots back, poking Seth in the cheek. “That bird will thank me later.”

 

“Sure, after it starves to death.”

 

Richie rolls his eyes and settles again with his legs crossed, twisting around to tug the lid off the cooler, pulling out a dented beer can and handing it to Seth before grabbing one of his own. Seth pops the tab and grimaces. Definitely gone a little skunky, they must have left it hidden away too long in the back corner of Eddie’s basement.

 

He crunches his mint, making a face at Richie as he does it, swallows the pieces and chases it with a hefty gulp of bitter. Then he breathes in deep, gazing out into the dark of the treeline.

 

Seth’s about a can and a half in and the world's beginning to go a little fuzzy around the edges, when Richie suddenly clears his throat, glancing furtive at Seth like he’s got a secret he’s not sure he can tell.

 

"Do you remember when you used to suck my thumb?" Richie says suddenly, huffing a laugh at the way Seth flushes. "That was kind of weird, huh?"

 

"Kids do weird shit, Richard," Seth says, self conscious both at the topic and the way his mouth fills with spit at the memory. He sort of wishes he hadn't already finished the mint. "Why're you bringing that up, anyway? 'S embarrassing."

 

Richie shrugs. "Dunno. Birthdays always make me think."

 

"About  _ that _ ?"

 

"Well, yeah," Richie replies, leaning back a little, light illuminating the side of his face just right. "I don't know what it meant to you, but for me it was like - like how I could tell you were safe. If you were there, with me, you weren't with Dad and you weren't having nightmares and you were close. I-I think I needed that, the constant point of contact. It was huge for me, Seth."

 

Richie’s unusually bashful, flicking at the tab on his beer can and staring down at the worn out canvas of his shoe so he doesn't have to look at Seth.

 

Seth swallows, not sure how to process this information. Richie's rarely so genuine with his feelings, much less the kind that run deep like this. 

 

"You don't have to say anything," Richie adds, "I guess I just wanted you to know."

 

"No, it's- it's good to know that you didn't just do it for me."

 

Richie’s silent a while before he speaks again. “We had to cope somehow with the kind of father Dad was.” 

 

Seth doesn’t like to think about Dad, so he doesn’t. He looks at Richie instead, taking in the slope of his nose, the pout of his mouth, those aristocratic cheekbones that make him look like he could belong to some exotic royal family. 

 

Sometimes, Seth wonders why everyone flocks to him when Richie’s always right there, far wittier and more interesting than Seth could ever be. Selfishly, Seth’s glad that they don’t, because it means he usually gets Richie all to himself.

 

They sit in silence for a while, drinking, listening to the crickets starting to chirp in the foliage around them, watching the sky streak up with inky blue and the stars start to appear, surrounding them, winking like fireflies.

 

He’s just starting to doze off to the distant rumble of the city when Richie shifts beside him, springs creaking as he moves. When Seth lets his eyes slide open he finds Richie staring intently at him, leaned in close so there’s only six or so inches between them.

 

“What are you doing?” Seth tilts his head, bemused. 

 

Richie bites his lip, looks away and back again like a nervous kid working up the courage to confess to something bad.

 

Seth’s mouth twists into a frown. “Come on, Richard, share with the class.”

 

Richie inhales deep, licks his lips, pausing just long enough for Seth to think he might not do anything at all. Then he presses his thumb to the corner of Seth’s mouth and sweeps it down to the center of his lower lip.

 

“Y’ got salt on you,” Richie says, in response to Seth’s wide eyed gaze. But then he doesn’t pull his hand away, just lets it rest there, cradling Seth’s jaw. An invitation.

 

Maybe it’s the slow buzz of alcohol in his blood, maybe it’s something in the air, but instead of darting back and shoving Richie and laughing this whole thing off, Seth lets his mouth go slack, just a bit.

 

Richie pushes his thumb in, slow, and Seth licks the pad of it, tugs it further inside with a gentle press of teeth. This angle’s going to get uncomfortable though, awkward with Richie having to hold his arm up, so Seth eases away momentarily and mumbles, “hold on,” as he shimmies down to lay on his back instead, legs outstretched, head pillowed on Richie’s thigh. Much better.

 

Richie's thumb slots back in perfectly, and Seth takes to it like he always did when they were little, sucking slow and rhythmic and even. Richie huffs a soft breath above him, leaning back against the truck window, letting his head loll to the side. Seth feels Richie's eyes on him and a wash of something warm flows through his chest, lulling his eyes closed. He'd forgotten how good it felt to have Richie this close.

 

Occasionally he hears the crinkle of a beer can as Richie takes another swallow, breathing deep and even above Seth. This  _ isn’t _ weird, even though it totally fucking should be. It’s just… good. Makes Seth wish he could purr just so Richie’d know how good this is.

 

After a while he gets bored with just letting Richie’s thumb sit in his mouth, so he starts moving his tongue, kitten licking around the nailbed, trying to find places that still taste like Richie and not just like spit. Richie shifts a little, adjusts so his legs are laid out straight instead of crossed in front of him, jostling Seth and making his teeth scrape over the knob of Richie’s knuckle. Richie inhales, shaky, squirms again before he pushes his thumb deeper into Seth’s mouth, back against the pocket of his cheek.

 

Seth sucks on it gently, eyes still half shut. Richie still seems restless underneath him, muscles twitching even though his leg’s staying perfectly still, thumb curling to push at the roof of Seth’s mouth, rub his knuckle over the ridges of his palate. Seth’s about to ask what the hell Richie’s deal is when Richie moves first, pulling away fast enough that Seth makes a soft noise of protest, lower lip stuck out in a pout.

 

Richie tugs off his sweatshirt, dropping it into his lap beside Seth’s head with a quiet whush of fabric.

 

When Richie offers his thumb again, he’s relaxed a bit and Seth doesn't hesitate in pulling the spit slick digit back into his mouth, letting it sit there, cradled against the roof of his mouth. Richie twitches his thumb, presses and strokes over the flat of Seth's tongue, eyes wide in wonderment as Seth licks his thumb top to knuckle.

 

A breeze rears up and Seth shivers a little, flips onto his belly to get at the warm spot in the mattress and rests his head on Richie’s thigh again, chin probably digging in now but Richie’s not complaining. In fact, he’s looking down past Seth with something akin to horror, and Seth drops his gaze to Richie’s lap, and the way the sweatshirt didn’t quite fall right enough to hide the bulge pushing against Richie’s zipper.

 

Seth blinks, and looks back up to Richie’s guilty, shame pink face, gaze aimed anywhere but Seth, and that tells Seth everything he needs to know.

 

Blood rushes south so quickly Seth goes lightheaded, and Richie’s trying to pull away from him, mumbling something that sounds like  _ sorrysorrysorry _ and all Seth knows in this moment is that he needs Richie to stay right where he is, so he closes his teeth around Richie’s knuckle and hooks his fingers into the loops of Richie’s jeans. Richie stops squirming abruptly, breath coming in short pants, wary and scared like an animal in a trap.

 

“Seth, I didn’t mean- I swear I didn’t-”

 

Seth pulls back, lets Richie’s thumb drop out of his mouth long enough to speak. “It’s okay,” he whispers, twisting his body so Richie can see that he’s hard too, pushing against the silky front of his shorts.

 

“Oh,” Richie breathes, sagging until his back thumps against metal. Seth takes this as an invitation and licks a stripe up the length of Richie’s thumb, so wrinkled and pruny now, wet with Seth’s spit. Richie moans this time and his hips twitch, the motion jerking Seth’s head up against Richie’s hipbone.

 

This is all going off the rails trainwreck fast but Seth wouldn’t know how to stop if he wanted to, overwhelmed with the knowledge that he can make Richie feel like this. That he can make him feel  _ good _ .

 

“It’s okay if you wanna… y’know.” Seth says, miming a jack off motion that makes Richie go scarlet, glasses sliding down his nose as he stares at Seth in shock.

 

Seth might play it up a little when he goes back to Richie’s thumb again, taking it in his mouth and pushing it against the backs of his front teeth, gaze locked to Richie’s as he starts to suck.

 

Richie’s lips part and he groans low in his throat as his fingers snap to his waistband, fumbling his jeans open just enough to tug his dick out. 

 

“God, that’s so hot,” Richie hisses, spitting in his palm and using it to slick up the length of his cock, big and thick and swollen red under the bone white of his fingers.

 

Something swells in Seth’s chest at the praise and he whines in the back of his throat as he watches Richie work up a rhythm, mouth momentarily gone slack. Richie reminds him he’s got a job to do with a hard push of the pad of his thumb, pressing down on Seth’s tongue.

 

It sounds like Richie’s already close, with the way his breathing’s gone ragged and his strokes are jerky-short, like he can’t decide if he wants to keep this going forever or let himself come like he wants to.

 

Seth makes his decision and pulls off Richie’s thumb in a split second movement, grabbing Richie’s wrist to still his hand. Richie whimpers in frustration and tries to wrench away from Seth, dick twitching hard under Seth’s gaze.

 

Seth feels precome slick up the front of his boxers at the sight, wet and sticky, and he rolls his hips against the mattress to take the edge off. 

 

“I wanna blow you,” he breathes, salivating at the thought. “Can I?”

 

Richie sags back and groans, the gaze he fixes on Seth dark and hooded with arousal. “Yeah, of course, Jesus-” 

 

Seth’s got his lips wrapped around Richie’s cock before he even finishes his sentence, and Richie’s hips surge forward so fast Seth almost chokes. “Seth, oh  _ fuck _ -” He cuts himself off as he scrabbles for purchase in Seth’s hair, digging his fingers into the tangle of it as his dick gets acquainted with the slick heat of the back of Seth’s throat and stays there ‘til Seth manages to get a grip on Richie and shove him back down.

 

Once Seth has control he eases up and presses his lips to the head of Richie’s dick in a parody of a kiss. He sucks and feels Richie shudder, hears a low moan followed by the thunk of Richie’s skull against the window behind him. Precome floods into Seth’s mouth, salty slick and sticky, so much of it Seth can barely swallow it all.

 

Seth had never thought he’d like sucking dick, and he probably wouldn’t with anyone else, but with Richie? It’s just the usual Richie soap and skin taste mixed up with the salt of his precome and something darker, and he laps it all up eagerly with the flat of his tongue while Richie shakes above him, fingers curling and twisting in Seth’s hair.

 

“Seth,  _ please, _ ” Richie whines, and Seth takes pity on him, sucking hard at the same time as he flicks his tongue at the sensitive little spot under the tip that he always goes crazy for. 

 

Apparently it works for Richie too, because Seth feels the yank of Richie’s hand in his hair the same second the first hot splatter of jizz hits his tongue, bitter-thick before it slides down his throat. He doesn’t resist when Richie yanks again, pulling him up just in time for the second spurt to hit the bridge of his nose, the rest striping his lips and chin, some dripping down onto the mattress.

 

Richie’s breathing hard when he finishes, punctuated by soft little pants that make Seth’s cock twitch and his belly go hot.

 

“Oh fuck, sorry,” Richie exclaims, scrubbing ineffectively at Seth with his pruny thumb, eventually leaning away to rummage in the cooler. 

 

Seth sits up and wipes at his face while Richie’s occupied, grimacing at the mixture of spit and jizz on his chin and the mattress and all over the crotch of Richie’s jeans. 

 

“C’mon, close your eyes,” Richie says, turning back to Seth with a bottle of water. “That shit stings.”

 

The corner of the blanket Richie uses to wipe Seth’s face clean is cool, wet, and soothing. When Richie hums a satisfied noise and Seth finally opens his eyes again Richie’s dick is back in his jeans and he’s all zipped up and Seth already misses it.

 

“Please tell me this was okay,” says Richie, words juddery and stilted on his tongue. He sounds nervous now, like he did earlier, like he thinks Seth’s about to turn around on him and leave without a backwards glance.

 

Seth answers by rolling over onto his back because he wants - no,  _ needs _ \- Richie to see this. He shoves his hand past his waistband and takes a hold of his dick, squirming at the feeling of his own cold fingers squeezed tight. Yeah, this won’t take long. 

 

Richie shifts above him and after a moment he’s sliding his thumb past Seth’s lips to rest on his tongue. Seth groans, licking up the heady jizz taste still lingering on Richie’s skin, back arching as he fucks into his own fist. He doesn’t last more than ten seconds before he’s soaking the front of his shorts with a low whimper.

 

Seth comes down slow, world coming back into focus on the winking stars above him and Richie’s flushed, summer freckled face.

 

“Yeah, this was okay,” Seth says, smiling shyly as Richie eases his hand away, stroking spit over Seth’s jaw before he pulls away completely and wipes his fingers off on the mattress.

 

Seth tugs his hand out of his shorts and scowls at the mess, soupy white webbed between his fingers. He doesn’t even want to think about how gross this is going to be in an hour or two, while they’re stuck here waiting out the buzz so Seth can drive home.

 

Eventually he sits up and finds the water bottle, hanging his hand over the edge of the truck and rinsing it off into the dirt.

 

“Well, that’s one way to celebrate,” Richie says. It’s a little awkward, but there’s a laugh behind it too.

 

“You’re tellin’ me,” says Seth, shaking his hand off and drying it on his t-shirt.

 

Richie waves the blanket at Seth, dotted with smears of congealing jizz that didn’t wash out with the water, laughing in earnest this time at Seth’s wrinkled nose as he shoves it away.

 

“You’re gross,” Seth grumbles.

 

“I know you are, but what am I?” Richie replies good-naturedly, grabbing the last beer from the cooler and popping the tab.

 

Seth rolls his eyes dramatically. “Happy birthday by the way, assface.”

 

Richie raises his beer can and knocks it against the side of the truck in a toast, before downing what must be half of the can in three enormous gulps.

 

“Hey,” Seth complains, a little envious despite the memory of the skunky taste. “We’re supposed to be sobering up.”

 

“ _ You _ have to,” Richie says smugly. “Last I checked I wasn’t the one behind the wheel.”

 

Seth glares and huffs and shoves Richie a little so he sloshes some of the beer onto his jeans and all of a sudden everything’s normal again.

 

Richie finishes the can and crushes it, tossing it back into the now empty cooler. And maybe it gets a little weird for a second because there’s nothing else to focus on but each other. But then it’s not because Seth throws an arm around Richie’s shoulders and wrestles him down to the mattress and curls up against his side, arm slung over his chest.

 

They’ve done this a thousand times, every night since they were little and figured out that they’re safer together than they are apart. It’s the same as always and completely different at the same time, and it all comes together in a way that Seth’s stomach flutter.

 

Richie’s hand comes up to cup Seth’s chin, stroke over it before he eases his thumb past Seth’s lips, still pruny from earlier. There’s no heat to it now, just a soft touch and press, mapping out all the grooves and hollows of Seth’s mouth.

 

Seth just lets him do it, still and quiet in the warm night air, eyes drooping shut as Richie’s hand finally stills, his breathing starting to even out into a deep, steady rhythm.

 

Seth heaves a contented sigh and smiles up at the stars and falls asleep with Richie’s thumb cradled like a talisman on his tongue.


End file.
